Blair Collection > Celtic monthly > Volume 1, 1893

THE CELTIC MONTHLY.
35
heroic ballads as they went along. At Aeh
ness they all stopped for a little time, and,
standing on a knoll, leaning on his staff,
William sang the following verses to a weird
old Highland melody. I fear they lose much
in translation, but with the Gaelic language
that is inevitable : —
" God of might, God of right !
Go with Thy children where they go ;
Be Thou their guide, their beacon-light,
And keep them safe from every foe.
In times of danger or of dread
Be Thou their buckler and their shield ;
Within the hollow of Thy hand
0, hide them on the battlefield.
Give Thou them strength, and when at length
The battle's o'er, the work is done,
Then in Thy loving, shelt'ring arms,
O. gracious Father, bring them home ! "
After this there was a general and subdued
farewell ; the younger portion of the audience
did, indeed, try to cheer, but it degenerated
into a wail, and so everyone hurried off to hide
his feelings. The pipera played " Gabhaiclh
sinn an rathad mor," and the four travellers
parted from the rest and went off at a gallop.
They were met, however, at every clachan
and hamlet by kind-hearted people, who wished
them " God speed " on their way, and sent lov-
ing messages to husbands, sons, brothers, and
sweethearts, who were already in the. famous
93rd. Many insisted on their dismounting,
and took them in to their houses to have some
refreshment ; but some brought the " loving-
cup " out, and passed it round by the road-
side.
Among a community famous for their hospi-
tality, Eory Ban held a prominent place.
Lords and lairds had sat at his hospitable
board, and the beggar in rags got a welcome
as warm as they. It goes without saying
that every preparation had been made for the
comfort of the expected guests, and on their
arrival they found Rory and his good wife
anxiously expecting them. After a sumptuous
supper, the two young men retired to rest. It
had been a long, trying day, and though they
had carried a brave front, and entered heartily
into the excitement around them, now that
they were left to themselves, the reaction came,
and a wave of sorrow, weariness, and loneliness,
swept over them. Their kind hostess went to
see that they were comfortable and had all they
required. The woe-begone expression of the
young faces quite startled her. She sat with
them for some time and comforted them, as
only a large-hearted, noble, motherly woman
could do. By and bye she had the satisfaction
of seeing them go quietly to sleep. She slipped
out noiselessly, with an earnest prayer in her
heart for their safety and protection.
On the following morning everybody about
Mudale was early astir. It required no little
exertion to get the "drove" ready for the road.
Two or three hundred hill ponies, unkempt and
untamed, were a good handful; Rory and his
assistants had a hard morning's work before
they got them into subjection. Some of the
older horses were tied together to act as guides
or " decoys " to the younger and more spirited
animals. These tore about wildly, and several
times broke away and scampered over hill
and dale. There was much shouting and
hard riding, for these erratic creatures had to
be caught and brought back to the fold. This
work was highly congenial to Hugh and Donald
Gordon, who forgot everything in the wild
excitement of hunting clown and catching these
ponies. Rory's strong black horse galloped
about with his rider like a well-trained dog,
and drove them back at every corner. After-
two or three hours they were all safely secured,
and shut up in an enclosure ready for starting,
which thev did at noon.
Rhifail and John Gordon said "Good-bye"
to their sons, admonished them to be good,
true, and brave ; to fear God, and never "forget
the fame of their forefathers "—then the two
old men turned their faces homeward with
heavy hearts. Everything around them was
peaceful and beautiful. Loch Naver shimmered
and glowed beneath the autumn sunshine. The
cornfields were ripening, and here and there
showed patches of a golden glory that the sickle
would soon lay low ; the heather in full bloom
made the hills look dark-red and purple to their
very summits ; and the river flashed and sang
as it quietly took its way, among corn and hay
fields, through the level valley. Every now
and again a great gleam of silver rose above its
surface as a big salmon disported itself in the
quiet waters, for the river Naver was then, as it
is now, one of the best salmon rivers in the
Highlands.
The beautiful, homely scenery, the quiet and
peaceful surroundings, had a soothing effect on
the two men. Every inch of the country was
classic ground to them ; every stone and cairn
had its own associations, its own traditions.
They were now passing a deep, dark pool,
where many years ago a clansman was drowned
under extraordinary circumstances. Donald
Mor was a stalwart young man, as his name
implied. He was about to marry a neigh-
bour's daughter, whom he had courted for many
years, when he was suddenly called upon to join
the " Reay Fencibles." This regiment was sent
to Ireland. Here Donald forgot his Highland
love, became enamoured of the charms of a